


Hands Like Stone

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Breathplay, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Rough Sex, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik lets Apocalypse seduce him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Like Stone

Apocalypse’s large hands were gentle.

He ran them smoothly over Erik’s hair, down his neck, over his shoulders. He stroked a finger up over Erik’s chin, caressed his lips almost daintily and Erik couldn’t help but shiver. Couldn’t help but lean into the stroking fingers, couldn’t help but press a kiss against that soft, dark hand that had already seduced him once and was now seducing him a second time, in a different way.

He didn’t want to think about what was happening to him. Didn’t want to feel the aching, throbbing pain that was tearing apart his insides, the grief that would tear apart his mind if he let it. He didn’t want this to be gentle. He didn’t want kindness. He wanted to _hurt_ , he wanted to forget everything in a blaze of pain and roughness. 

“Please,” he said harshly. 

Apocalypse did not answer him. His hand continued its slow, steady exploration. As it slid down Erik’s chest, he felt his clothes fade away, leaving him naked, vulnerable. Apocalypse touched his chest then ran his hand around to stroke down his back.

Too slow. Too gentle. Too like the last time he’d been with Magda and she’d been so loving and kind, as she always was and no, no, he couldn’t think about her …

He thrust himself against Apocalypse, kissed the powerful mouth, almost biting it. He gripped at the smooth armour, trying to find a way in, demanding, _begging_ for more, for it faster, harder …

“Hush, child. Do not rush me.”

“Please,” Erik said and his voice was raw in his own ears. “ _Please_.”

Apocalypse’s fingers were suddenly curled around his throat, tightening slowly, inexorably. Erik closed his eyes, trying not to gasp for breath, seeing spots and stars dance across his vision.

“Is this what you want, my child? To suffer, to ache? To writhe in helpless pain?”

Yes. Yes, it was what he wanted. To hurt, to _forget_. For the inner agony to become outer agony.

“Harder,” he choked out and Apocalypse obliged, squeezing so tightly that Erik couldn’t breathe at all. He clawed at the hand, no longer sure if he was begging for more or trying to get free. There was only black in his vision now, overwhelming darkness …

Then Apocalypse released him and was holding him close and he was no longer cold armour but soft skin and his body was pressed against Erik’s and Erik felt a surge of shameful, bewildered need. He gasped in lungfuls of air, fingers gripping at Apocalypse’s shoulders, dimly aware that Apocalypse was lowering him to the ground, that his legs were being parted and he spread them willingly because yes, he wanted this, he did, he _needed_ it.

“You are powerful,” Apocalypse murmured in his ear. “My beautiful creature.”

He kissed Erik, the powerful kiss that Erik had wanted and oh, it was like having his soul torn from his body, like being devoured and swallowed whole. Erik could feel the strength, the surging power and it called to him, coaxed him, commanded him, he couldn’t resist it. His own power reached for it, every piece of metal singing in his ears for what seemed like miles.

“Take me,” he breathed and Apocalypse did, in a single thrust that made Erik cry out and claw at the ground beneath him. Metal stretched and surged as Apocalypse continued to thrust, strong and powerful and yes, this was what Erik wanted, needed, he couldn’t think of anything but this, this _pressure_ that was building, power and arousal swirling in his head. He felt full, full of everything and he might die from it but that was all right, that was fine because he didn’t care, he didn’t care about anything now except for feeling this because this was the only thing that was real and if it was the only thing that was real, nothing else mattered.

He came with a wild cry, arching his back. Apocalypse’s hands felt like stone on his shoulders, holding him, trapping him in place as he continued to thrust and Erik didn’t care, he just didn’t care, even though he wasn’t sure he could take much more stimulation, even though he was sweating and gasping and almost sobbing but he didn’t care, this was better than the other, it was _better_.

He wasn’t sure if Apocalypse actually reached orgasm or if the other mutant simply lost interest. All he knew was that suddenly, the strong body was no longer pounding into his, the connection was fading and he was just a man, sprawled on a dirty floor, alone apart from the three silent, watching figures that hadn’t reacted to a single thing that had just happened to him. Had Apocalypse taken them too? Fucked each one of them before Erik, torn them apart with his power before putting them back together?

He didn’t care.

“Never alone, my son,” Apocalypse murmured and as Erik slowly lifted himself, he felt armour forming around him, cold, sleek metal that fitted like a skin from neck to ankle, shielding him, protecting him, sealing him up.

It was better this way.

It was better this way.

It _was_ better this way.

It had to be.


End file.
